Hold My Hand: Finding Your Feet
by Mike and Marty
Summary: First of a three-part saga: Hermione Granger makes her way to Hogwarts, and tries to find herself in this strange new world. Future darkfic.
1. Chapter 1

_Back in February 2010, Mike and I were discussing the concept of fan fiction. After talking over an extensive period of time, we decided to collaborate on this amusing little story, combining his elaborate alternate mythos (and I mean friggin' ELABORATE; the man's always thinking about SOMETHING) with my experience writing darkfic, to make, well, the following story come to life. It clearly took a while to get off the ground, but that doesn't change how we feel about it. I hope everyone enjoys reading this story as much as we enjoyed writing it._

_Side note__: Future chapters are not going to be appropriate for younger audiences due to reasons yet to be determined and reasons to be kept secret because we're stinkers like that. Mike's a tricky one; I'll let you know about the time it starts to get a bit squicky. No promises though, as your mileage may vary._

_Oh, and by the way, neither Mike nor I own Harry Potter rights. We're just jaded young adults who like to mess with people and their childhoods._

_-Marty_

* * *

**Hold My Hand**

_Finding Your Feet_: Chapter One

28 June 1991

_Hattie, the most peculiar thing happened today as I came home from the library. There was an owl perched on the fencepost. It looked at me sort of funny. It was the funny one; a tawny owl in the middle of the day! We learned about owls last month in school, as you recall. It was all rather odd to me. Then again, I am the odd one around here._

_I had a row with Francois again during lunch. She made fun of my hair and teeth, saying I was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Lupita, Wendy, and Juna all agreed with her and the whole table ended up laughing at me, calling me names, and saying I was stupid for writing to you since you're just a book. I am glad to be on vacation now—none of them go towards the library or my house. It should all be safe for two wonderful months. The only person I'll probably see from school is Jeremié while I'm at the library, and he's a bit creepy, so I'll just avoid him like usual. Mrs Corner the librarian likes me, so I'm sure she'll help me out._

_Mum and Dad should be home tomorrow from their dental conference over in America. They say they're bringing me home some presents to make up for being gone so long. I wonder what they're bringing back. Anyways, I just want them home so that I don't have to check in with Mr Smith all the time. He has been so depressed since Sammy died. Sammy was a good dog, but it's been months already. I just don't think elderly hearts mend as easy, it seems._

* * *

30 June 1991

_I still can barely believe what I experienced today! There was this elderly woman dressed in funny clothes that came to my house. She handed my parents a letter and told me that I was accepted to a school called 'Hogwarts' in Scotland that was specifically designed for wizards and witches. She explained that there was a whole, huge community of magical people living with and hidden from 'Muggles', or non-magic folk. She is the deputy headmistress there, it seems. Professor McGonagall said that the time when Francois's hair caught on fire two years ago was because of me. I was doing magic. I had only thought how lovely it would be if she did not have all that long, golden hair that always behaved when it should. She was teasing me and I couldn't help it. Apparently, people have done worse things before they learned to control their magic and with less reason to do so._

_Mum and Dad are debating on letting me go. I think it would be wonderful to go to a magic school instead of that girls' academy that's across town we were thinking about or the comprehensive school everyone else is going to. If I don't go, I can either apply to a different school in Europe or overseas or let my ability be sealed off by an official from the Ministry of Magic. I really do hope to go. Hogwarts sounds too lovely to _not_ go._

* * *

12 July 1991

_Mum, Dad and I went to Diagon Alley today to get my supplies for school. They decided last week that I was allowed to go to Hogwarts, so we went early with our lists. Professor McGonagall came with us so that we knew where to go for which items. Apparently, most of the other students are still on the lookout for their acceptance letters and supply lists. Muggle-borns like me get theirs early so that a teacher can accompany them to the different shops and show them the difference between different-grade cauldrons and which shops have better reputations and everything. We even went to the bank, which was run by a bunch of ugly, squat little men that Professor McGonagall referred to as goblins. Since we don't have wizarding money, we had to get our pounds exchanged. Dad tried to explain his credit card to the goblin, but it did not seem to quite sink in. We were there for a good portion of an hour explaining the concept of credit cards to the various goblins there. They seemed fascinated by the little piece of plastic—well, that's what Mum said on the drive back home._

_There was very large man that Professor McGonagall introduced to us in Diagon Alley. His name was Rubeus Hagrid and he is the gamekeeper at Hogwarts. He was taller and broader than any man I had ever seen before! He said that he was looking for some sort of repellent for a thing called a 'skrewt'. I asked him what those were and he just laughed and said that I would learn about those eventually. He then went down another alleyway, which Professor McGonagall told us to never go down unless we know exactly what we're doing. It doesn't have the nicest people there, apparently. Hagrid knows what to do and where to go though, so she said that he would be fine._

_You know, Hattie, I'm still having a bit of trouble believing the fact that the wizarding world has been kept separate and hidden for so long from the Muggles. I don't see why it is so important. Professor McGonagall had explained some of it to Mum and Dad, but it sort of goes over their heads. I know they're too busy thinking about their dental practice to worry too much over a history that has never concerned them in the first place. That's why I insisted on getting a few history books on the side when we got my textbooks; these seem like very interesting people and I think it would be neat to learn more about them before I actually get to school. Maybe there, I might be able to fit in a little better than I did in primary school. I've even decided to take a course on Muggle Studies, so that I can see how the magical world sees the non-magic side of things. Oh, it's all so exciting! I better get started on those books._

* * *

6 August 1991

_I just finished reading through all of the books we bought in Diagon Alley. There are so many spells and potions and things I have to remember. I should be able to give everything a quick glance-over before I have to get on the train on the First of September._

_The history books are the ones that have been quite interesting. There are wizarding communities all over the world and not just here in Britain! A lot of the communities formed along with the Muggles, so there are places in the Americas and in the former colonies that have magical schools just like Hogwarts and even different forms of government and politics! I think once I get to school, I am going to look in the library and see what kind of books there are on international magical history and politics. I will, once I get accustomed to the workload of course._

_I wonder what my teachers are going to be like or if I will get along with the other students. What kind of things will I be able to see there? Will I make fast friends? Are there other oddballs like me?_

_Mum and Dad are out at a conference again. Since they are going to be a while, I'm staying with Mr Smith. He seems very interested in my studies. The fact I was reading a book on Potions didn't seem to bother him. He told me his wife was a Squib… which is what they call non-magic people born to wizarding families. She apparently tried to do many, many simple Charms and Potions while she was alive, but could never do anything. Honestly, I don't remember Mrs Smith doing anything of the sort. She died when I was about six, so I don't really remember everything about her, but I _know_ I would have remembered something like a spell or potion. That was before I got you to write in, Hattie. She was a kind old grandmother, like how Mr Smith's like a grandfather. I will miss him while I'm away. I'll miss Marjorie too. That's Mr Smith's new dog, by the way. She's a large, huggable Labrador puppy._

_Oh, and I ran into Juna at the library today. I guess her elder brother had her enrolled in a summer reading course. She was not pleased, to say the least. Then Francois showed up while her mum was returning some romance novels and they started teasing me, saying that my hair is wretched and fluffy and the only way I could do any worse is if I dated a ginger. I don't know who was more shocked when Francois's hair went up in flames, her or the clerk at the front desk. If Professor McGonagall knew, she'd be likely to put me in detention on my first night—but I had to. You know Francois; she has to be taught a lesson. At least I haven't gone to school yet, so it's unlikely that I would get caught for letting her hair flame up for the second time. She shouldn't have stood by the window with the sun coming in like that and the air being so dry._

* * *

1 September 1991

_I can't sleep! We leave for London in a few hours! Then, I get to board the train to Hogwarts! Professor McGonagall is going to meet us, along with a couple other Muggle-borns, at King's Cross and teach us how to access the platform. I've been to King's Cross loads of times and none of those times did I ever see a Platform 9 ¾. There must be some sort of magical trick to it._

_Oh! I think I hear Dad! He'll be furious if he catches me awake at this hour! I'll be sure to write all about my adventures later!_

* * *

Hermione Granger stepped out of her parents' car and bounced happily around the car park. It was a pleasant day for a train ride, which only made the girl more excitable. It was ten o'clock and the train was set to leave in an hour. Her father placed her trunk on a trolley and they began the task of making their way through the crowd at King's Cross. There were many other children there with their families, and it seemed as if there were a few other trains that were headed out with boarding schools in mind. It did not take long before Minerva McGonagall's tall, austere form could be seen standing between Platforms Nine and Ten, accompanied by a few others.

'Ah, Miss Granger, I am glad to see that you have finally made it,' McGonagall smiled. 'We just have to wait for one more student and we are ready to enter the platform.'

'Are you sure there is an extra platform here?' Mr Granger asked. 'I've been around here hundreds of times and I have never seen this nine-and-three-quarters that you speak of.'

'She says it is here,' said one of the other fathers. He was a tidy man with a respectable air about him. 'It's got to be some sort of trick of the eye or something. I'm Entwhistle, by the way.'

'Granger; my little girl's starting this year.'

Hermione ignored her father as he socialized, which is what she had learned to do after attending so many dinners with important guests. She looked at the other students, none of whom seemed as shy as she was. Nervous, maybe, but shy? Not in the slightest.

'Sorry we're late!' shouted a woman as she ran down the platform along with her son. She was a very tall, thin Black woman, with a son that clearly inherited her build. 'The buses were running a bit behind schedule, I'm afraid. I think one must've broken down on our route.'

'That is quite alright, Mrs Thomas,' McGonagall said cordially. 'Muggle transportation can be extremely reliable, but unfortunately not foolproof.' She turned her attention to the group of people gathered in front of her and cleared her throat.

'Now I will explain this only once: in order to access Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, you must head towards the barrier here between Platforms Nine and Ten. Do not dawdle and try not to think of the brick you see before you. All humans, Muggle and Wizard alike, see brick here and it is most important that you _trust_ in the fact you will emerge on the other side. Oh! Nancy! There you are! Will you and young Seamus please demonstrate for us proper entering procedure?'

McGonagall had spotted a woman with sandy blonde hair and her young son as they just came into view around the barrier. The boy looked a bit skittish at the prospect of encountering a teacher already, particularly one that knew his name without introduction, but his mother smiled in reply.

'I see you're in charge of the Muggle-borns this year, aren't ya Professor?' she chuckled. Without even breaking step, the two of them walked briskly at the wall together until they vanished behind the brick. Hermione's eyes went wide.

'Are they at the platform now, Professor?!' she asked.

'Yes they are,' McGonagall answered. 'Why don't you go next, Miss Granger? You seem eager to try.'

Hermione nodded silently and straightened her back as she gripped the handle to her trolley. After a deep breath, she ran at the barrier. She could her hear mother call out at her as she clenched her eyes shut and braced herself for the impact of the wall. She felt the trolley crash into something and a voice rang out.

'_Do_ watch where you are going,' sighed a voice. Hermione opened her eyes and saw a man standing in front of her with a trolley—the very trolley hers had just crashed into. Hermione looked around nervously; the platform was unfamiliar and she could not see her parents. A girl with strawberry-blonde hair and a large smile popped out from behind the man with the trolley and went right up to Hermione's face, looking curiously.

'I've never seen you before,' she giggled. 'I'm Daphne! What's your name?'

'Her-Hermione… Hermione Granger.'

'You wouldn't happen to be a relation of the Dagworth-Grangers, would you?' asked the man Hermione assumed was Daphne's father. Hermione shook her head nervously and the man frowned. 'Come along, Daphne, dear. Your mother and Tori are waiting for us.'

'…but Daddy! What if we're in the same House?!'

'Not with that girl, I'm afraid,' he said, walking away. Hermione blinked for a moment before she turned around and saw her parents walk through the brick wall. They were equally flabbergasted as she was.

'There you are, child!' her mother gasped as both Grangers ran up to their daughter. 'Thank goodness you got through alright! I almost had a heart attack when you disappeared!'

'I'm fine, Mum…' Hermione replied. 'Come on! Let's get my trunk on the train!'

* * *

'_GRYFFINDOR!_'

Hermione jumped down from the stool and ran over to join the table full of cheering students. She sat next to a tall, ginger boy who wore a badge on his chest. He shook her hand firmly and patted her on the shoulder with his free hand.

"Welcome to Gryffindor House," he said. "My name's Percy and I'm one of the prefects. If you ever have any questions about Hogwarts, then just ask."

'Oh, that's quite alright,' Hermione replied. 'I read all about the castle in _Hogwarts, A History_ over summer.' The prefect chuckled and clapped for 'Greengrass, Daphne' and next 'Goldstein, Anthony' as they were being Sorted.

Hermione turned her head and looked around the Great Hall as she continued clapping politely for her fellow First Years. It was a grand place with a beautifully bewitched ceiling and a warm atmosphere. The only thing that felt amiss was a group of students not that much older than Hermione stood nervously in the back of the Hall. The girl had little time to wonder about who they were before the table erupted into a deafening roar when a scraggly-looking boy with baggy clothes and black hair was Sorted into Gryffindor House. The Sorting Hat had taken a long time with him. It was not until the last of the First Years were Sorted that they had calmed down to the volume of the rest of the Hall.

Dumbledore stood up and the rest of the hall quieted once again. He looked rather sombre to Hermione, which was a shocking change from the amiably wise man he had been merely moments before.

'Third years,' he began. The students that had been standing in the back of the hall shuffled forward down the centre of the room, just as the first years had done, except silently and without instruction.

'I'm sorry, but what's happening?' Hermione asked Percy quietly. 'Aren't they already Sorted?'

'They were,' he said. He then paused. 'Pardon me for asking, but are you a Muggle-born?'

'Yes.'

'Don't be sheepish now—I'm sure plenty of other Muggle-born students are pondering the same thing. This is just the Evaluation ceremony.'

'Evaluation?' Hermione watched as a student sat down on the stool and was sorted into Ravenclaw.

'When you're sorted into your first year house, that's the house best suited to your initial formation as an individual witch or wizard. Unfortunately, the Sorting Hat can only see potential and not the specific experiences a person is going to face or how they will ultimately react to them. Magic can be very powerful, but it would defeat many purposes if we could see into the future. It is because of this instance of free will that after their first two years in Hogwarts, students are evaluated and sorted again into the house most suited to their refinement of the skills and traits they have been developing."

"Are people often made to switch houses?"

"It depends on the year, really. My year stayed roughly the same, but my elder brother Bill's classmates were nearly all shuffled around. The only house that never has anyone Evaluated in from another house is Slytherin. One or two a year might get Evaluated out, but none come in from the outside. I believe it has happened all of six times in the school's history. It routinely gets blamed on the high House standards Salazar Slytherin set in place during the Founding.'

'Why does it say nothing about Evaluation in _Hogwarts, A History_? I must have read it through twice and there was absolutely nothing about this!'

'It is an unwritten tradition of sorts. If a wizard's house is named, then I can assure you it was their second house.'

'So then, I'm going to have to be Sorted again…?'

'I wouldn't worry about it,' Percy said, putting a brotherly hand on Hermione's shoulder. 'The Sorting Hat only moves people who really want to be moved. Could you believe it asked me if I wanted to go to Hufflepuff? Twice? The nerve!'

Hermione watched as the rest of the Third Years went to their respective Houses. A few had their uniform colours change as soon as the Sorting Hat bellowed its next decision. It made the girl nervous, but her jitters thankfully vanished once the tables began magically filling with some of the most delicious-looking food she had ever seen.


	2. Chapter 2

Here is the next chapter of _Hold My Hand_, ready for your enjoyment! Be sure that if you like the story, or have questions/concerns, let Mike and me know by shooting us a review or a PM. We're always looking for feedback. Updates should be twice a week unless otherwise noted.

Note: The following has explicit reference to characters _not_ featured in the Harry Potter books and only were either mentioned in passing or gleaned from supplementary materials. We were able to work around things mostly, so it's only partly original flavour at this point, but if you are confused do not be afraid to ask.

Disclaimer: neither Mike nor I own Harry Potter rights. Jaded adults, blah, blah, blah, give us Newt Scamander already.

* * *

_Finding Your Feet_: Chapter Two

* * *

14 September 1991

_A lot has happened in my first two weeks at Hogwarts. I have to say, Hattie, this place is just a scream! The subjects are very interesting and the practical applications are so different than just reading about them. Professor McGonagall says that I am 'gifted' and says that I can achieve great things if I put my mind to it. Some of the other kids in my class aren't as lucky as me. You remember Neville? The one I helped out on the train? Well, he's not very good at anything at all it seems. I constantly help him with his coursework already. I think he just needs a bit of extra help and will be really good once he knows the basics. Sometimes the teachers go too fast for the other kids to keep up. _

_Nothing's really changed on the friends front. Other than Neville and the professors, I rarely talk to anyone else. I think the other girls in my dorm know I was the oddball of my primary school and they only talk to me if they have to. The boys in my House, other than Neville, all think I'm a nutter. It's because I study so much. It just isn't fair, Hattie! A whole school of magical people, which is odd enough as is, and I am_ still _the class weirdo! If this place wasn't so fascinating, I would give it until Halloween before I call Mum and Dad and ask if I can still be transferred to the comprehensive school. It's just not fair!_

* * *

20 September 1991

_Yesterday was my birthday and no one said anything. There were streamers and balloons tied to my bed posts when I woke up though, as if someone came in during the night and put them there. I think I'm the eldest in the class, since I haven't heard of anyone else experiencing the same thing in the other Houses. I know I'm the eldest in Gryffindor for sure—the birthdays for the House are tacked onto a board in the common room. A present came from Mum and Dad by owl this morning at breakfast. I guess they're trying to get used to wizard post and it ended up coming a day late. I already read some of the books they sent. I'm going to read the book about Four, Sarah Jane and the Pescatons before I go to bed since it's so small. I wish those books were a bit longer—they're worse than Discworld in that regard. Is a bit more material to read really that much to ask for?_

* * *

27 September 1991

_Oh! I wish I could switch rooms with Kellah! Lavender won't stop teasing me about my fluffy hair and large teeth. At least if I swapped places with Kellah, she could talk more to Fay and I could talk with Eurwen. Kellah and Fay are quickly becoming best friends now that Fay's been teaching us Muggle-borns about Gobstones. I don't like it much, but Kellah does. It's just this little game of marbles that shoot acid at you if you do poorly. Eurwen doesn't like it much either; she's more interested in her cousin's studies. She can spend hours with Professor Quirrell learning all sorts of things he encountered during his travels abroad. All three of us are a bit odd, if you look at us like the others do. Eurwen can't stop talking about how much she had admired Professor Quirrell from the moment she realized that other people did not have cousins that could conjure fireworks from thin air in the autumn or tell the difference between different types of dragons. She's lucky, being Muggle-born, but still having someone that can help her along the way. Would you believe that she didn't know he existed until she got her letter? Their fathers were Muggles, but her mum was a Muggle and his mum was a witch. Their families didn't talk much, as it were. A whole side of the family filled with wizards and witches... and she didn't even know! Not me; I still have to deal with Lavender and Parvati teasing me behind my back._

_I just can't imagine what it would be like if all eight of us were put into a single room together. That would be a nightmare._

_Speaking of nightmares, I almost couldn't sleep last night because of them. Harry and Ron were trying to leave the dormitory last night in order to go duel Malfoy, so I tried to stop them. Of course, it didn't work and even Neville ended up coming along. He had been locked out of the common room when he forgot the password. Malfoy didn't even show up and we were almost caught by Filch. We all had to run and didn't even realize when we ran into the third-floor corridor to escape._

_There was a huge cerebus there, almost as big as a small house! It was standing on a trap door and almost ate us. I don't think I've ever run faster than that before in my life! I couldn't get to sleep until it was almost dawn. The whole thing makes me shake at the memory of it._

* * *

8 October 1991

_It turns out that Kellah and I can't swap beds and I'm stuck with Lavender and Parvati laughing at me every day. Professor McGonagall said that if I stay in Gryffindor after I'm Evaluated, then I can make a request to switch. Of course, there would have to be a new Gryffindor or someone who left, but I don't mind. Two years shouldn't be that bad._

_Pansy Parkinson and I quarrelled today in the hall. She said I looked like a ratty old beaver with large teeth. I called her a pug and she started to yell at me in what sounded like Greek. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but Millicent Bulstrode apparently found it very funny and dragged Pansy away laughing. I tried to ask Daphne Greengrass what it was about, because she was with them, but she just smiled and skipped away. I'm really starting to believe that Slytherin is not exactly the friendliest sort, down to the girls. Malfoy is one thing, but really._

* * *

19 October 1991

_I had a lovely conversation today with Justin Finch-Fletchley. He's a Muggle-born, like me, but is in Hufflepuff. It sounds like he has been learning a lot about the wizarding world from Ernie Macmillan, who's in his dorm. Ernie's family has been magic for centuries, so he knows just about everything there is to know. Talking to Justin made me wish I had someone like that who would tell me things so I didn't always have to look it up in a book. Could you believe Justin planned on going to Eton College before he got his Hogwarts letter? ETON! Giving up Eton is like giving up—I don't know—that's incredible! What I wouldn't give just to _visit_ Eton..._

* * *

31 October 1991

_I can't believe it! Those boys! I hate them all! Just because I'm the only one in the room that actually reads ahead and tries to be prepared for class doesn't mean I'm an impossible nightmare! Oh, Hattie, I can barely see what I'm writing because I'm crying so hard. Moaning Myrtle has been kind to me about it. Although she haunts the toilets in the second floor, she can always hear through the pipes when someone is using a stall to have a good cry. I guess boys were just as stupid when she was alive as they are now. I think I'm going to go down and try to have something to eat. My stomach feels awful._

_Oh my goodness, Hattie! I can't believe what was staring me in the face when I exited the stall: a huge mountain troll! I just remember that it was very large and smelled repulsive and it tried to kill me with its club! Harry and Ron came in and knocked it out for me. I was so scared. I couldn't do anything but stand there and scream. I felt so useless, like Tegan or those girls in old movies that don't do anything but get in the way. Harry and Ron were about to get into trouble, but I said that I went looking for the troll. They were so brave that I couldn't let them get into trouble! Professor McGonagall took away points from me, but gave some to the boys in return._

_I think this means I have friends now. We hugged before going to our dormitories for the night. Having friends is nice._

* * *

5 November 1991

_I'm trying out the new quill Professor McGonagall let me borrow while I watch the fireworks. All I have to do is think something and it will write down itself! Wow, that's a pretty one. I'm watching the fireworks displays with Ron and Harry. Seamus is making a bit of a fuss about it all; I guess Catholics don't really like the reminder that people do some stupid stuff in the name of faith, but tha—oh! It looks like a dragon—that doesn't mean we can't have a bit of fun. Besides, most of the Guys are actually Snapes. I doubt that Professor Snape likes it very much. It seems sort of odd, but I think this tradition might be more beloved here than in my neighbourhood back home. What's Mr. Filch got there? It sort of looks like he's got Guys of his own! Harry, what do you suppose they are? Peeves, Fred and George?! You've got to be joking! OH! They just exploded on him! Should we get Madam Pomfrey? You two are impossible…_

_Oh, no… look at what you've made me write! I shouldn't hav—_

* * *

16 November 1991

_I got to watch my first-ever Quidditch match today! Never have I seen anything like it, even during flying lessons! Harry was brilliant. I was pretty scared watching him dart around in the sky, weaving in and out between all the older students, but he caught the Snitch in the end. Once, his broom even started to malfunction. I saw Professor Snape in one of the other sets of bleachers, his eyes on Harry and his mouth moving quickly, like he was cursing him. I crept over and set his robes alight to distract him. Luckily, he didn't know it was me. I don't feel right about it, but he was going to kill Harry! How could I let him do that?!_

_I'm trying to think now about how to describe Quidditch, Hattie. It would have to be this odd mix of a high-scoring football game that has cricket bats, killer balls and the magical equivalent of bicycles—sort of. I would copy down the rules from _Quidditch Through the Ages_, but that would take up too much room. I still remember most of the rules and technicalities from the book. I swear it's like people just made up most of the rules as they went and didn't care too much about making sense of it all. You almost need a course in school just to make sense of it. I bet Harry and Ron would sign up for that course in a heartbeat._

* * *

28 November 1991

_Stephen Cornfoot almost lost Ravenclaw a load of points earlier today. He kept on griping about there not being any turkey or stuffing or cranberry jelly at dinner. Apparently, it wasn't 'fair' that we got to celebrate with fireworks earlier in the month while he doesn't get anything for the American Thanksgiving. Anthony Goldstein and Mandy Brocklehurst had to drag him from the Great Hall and I heard that Sue Li gave him such a strict scolding that none of the Ravenclaw prefects or Professor Flitwick had to say a word. _

_I still can't get over the fact that Freddie Mercury died on Sunday. Even the wizarding students from pureblood families know how horrible it is. Music is one of the few things that seems to transfer over between magic and Muggle with ease. Everyone had at least heard of records by the time we all came to Hogwarts and I hear some of the older Muggle-born students have figured out how to let their tape decks and CD-players work despite all the magic mucking about. A Ravenclaw figured it, unsurprisingly. I should see if I can bring my Walkman back after Christmas and have a go at it._

* * *

18 December 1991

_I'm on the Hogwarts Express, going back to King's Cross. It's almost Christmas time! I can't wait to get home and tell my parents all about the wonderful things I've done at school! Professor McGonagall said that as long as I practice in my room, I can do magic while I'm away. Mum and Dad can even see, as long as they peek in the door. It's a special allowance they allow Muggle-borns, since we don't have magical examples at home._

_Neville's sleeping on the other side of the compartment from me. Harry and Ron chose to stay behind at school, so it's just the two of us. Dean and Seamus said they might stop by later, Eurwen too. I think she's been having trouble with Scarlett and Lily, because she doesn't seem as friendly as usual today. Hopefully, she'll get some Christmas cheer soon!_

* * *

Hermione hopped out of the train car and took a look around. Her parents had not come to greet her at the platform, but she remembered how frightened they were of the barrier at the beginning of term and thought that they just decided to stay safe outside it. Neville Longbottom, still sleepy from the ride, was right behind her, a step in front of Eurwen Quirrell. Hermione did not think she could find a more irritated girl than Eurwen; her thick black curls had been accidentally used as a cushion for the past three hours and, even worse, Neville drooled.

'Eur-r-r-Eurwen...!' called out Professor Quirrell's voice over the whistle of the train and the bustle of people. The skittish teacher appeared in the crowd, coming from the train's front with quick-moving eyes and the large, garlic-scented turban. 'C-c-come p-p-please. I told your p-p-parents that I'd-d take you t-to them."

'Coming Quirinus!' Eurwen said excitedly. She turned to Hermione and smiled. 'Hermione, do you think you might be able to come for a visit sometime during the holiday?'

'I think I might. I would have to ask my parents first.'

'Well th-then, maybe I can help-p-p you find your p-p-parents too and we c-c-can make an ar-r-rangement?' Professor Quirrell offered. The girls were quick to agree and rushed to find not only their trunks, but a trolley for each of them as well. They cheerfully followed Quirrell out onto the Muggle platforms of King's Cross, almost immediately coming upon the Grangers.

'Mum! Dad!' Hermione cried out. She ran up to her parents and hugged them both. 'I've missed you so much!'

'It has been a while, hasn't it, sweetie?' Mrs Granger said. 'Oh? Who is this? One of your friends from school?'

'Mum, Dad, this is Eurwen; she's in my House... and this is her cousin, Professor Quirrell.'

'Good to meet you, professor," Mr Granger said, shaking the teacher's hand. The younger man nodded eagerly and returned a smile.

'G-g-good t-to meet you b-b-both,' he said as he went and shook Mrs Granger's hand as well. 'H-h-hermione is one of my b-b-best st-t-students from any year. You sh-should b-be very p-p-proud. I-I have t-travelled m-much and find f-few w-wizards and w-witches th-that c-c-can be as ace as s-she will be!'

Mr Granger looked at the teacher with a quirked brow, unsure what to make of him. 'Say, what is it that you teach, professor?'

'D-defence Ag-gainst the D-dark Arts, sir.' Mr Granger did not seem very convinced, nor was he amused, at the prospect that such a quivering man was put in charge of his daughter for such a formidable-sounding subject.

Hermione recognised the stern look on her father's face and quickly piped up to change the subject. 'Dad, Eurwen wants to know if I can come over for a visit during the holiday. May I go, please...?'

'We'll think about it, Hermione dear,' Mrs Granger said. 'Come along now, we've got a lot to talk about! Tell me about school.'

'Okay. I'll see you later, Eurwen!'

'Bye Hermione! Happy Christmas!'

* * *

It was dark outside as the newly fallen snow whipped around the yard, fresh and loose in the wind. The Grangers sat up in their parlour, each reading their own book. Hermione had long since been sent to bed and was gone long enough to be asleep when Mrs Granger closed her book.

'Grant,' she said, looking at her husband. He sipped at his brandy and did not even look up.

'What is it, Margo?'

'Look at me.' Mr Granger glanced up to see his wife none too pleased. 'It's been five days... I think Hermione deserves an answer about visiting that girl from school.'

'If we don't discuss it, then I don't have to tell her "no".'

'Why not? Is it because of the poor girl's cousin? He's a teacher for heaven's sake.'

'I don't like him; smelled funny.'

'You heard Hermione—he's been awfully jittery since he has been abroad for the year prior this! I doubt she can find a thing wrong with that school and you're now judging it by a stutter and a turban.'

'I almost wish we could transfer her out,' Mr Granger said, turning a page in his book. 'All that stuff she does in her room... it's peculiar.'

'Of course it's peculiar... she's learning magic! I just wish you would let her go to see her friend. She has friends, Grant. Friends! She hasn't had any since playgroup! Not just this Eurwen girl, but boys too! The way she talks about them—her eyes simply light up! Maybe, this is the start of something?'

'As much as I love our daughter, Margo, I still don't want her to go.' Mr Granger tried not to sound cross, but was wearing his patience thin from his wife's excitement. 'We don't know the parents or how far they live or the neighbourhood and, besides, I thought we were going to leave her with Mr Smith when we have to attend that conference.'

'Have it your way, then,' Mrs Granger said, drawing her knees up and opening her book again. She peered at her husband over the pages, not happy that she could not help her daughter foster a friendship with another girl her own age. Oh, how she wanted her daughter to just be happy and have lots of friends, but her bookishness always seemed to get in the way. Hopefully, she thought, the time will come and Eurwen could come and stay, or Hermione with her. It was only a matter of time before he softened to the idea.

On the staircase, hidden by a wall just thin enough to hear voices through, Hermione sat huddled on a step, thinking about what she had just heard. Another New Year's with Mr Smith? There were worse things that could happen.


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you so very much to everyone who has read thus far! It is good to know that there are people interested in our mad plot. Be sure to drop us a line and let us know how we're doing!

Disclaimer: Mike and Marty hold no commercial rights to the Harry Potter franchise, although Marty wants a crack at the Fantastic Beasts movie because of reasons.

* * *

_Finding Your Feet_: Chapter Three

5 January 1992

_The train brought me back to Hogwarts yesterday. It was sort of funny having to go through King's Cross without my trunk and everything. I had to look for Ron and Harry once I arrived; they were horsing around in the Quidditch pitch, taking turns on Harry's broom and completely ignoring the fact we had holiday work. I swear they would lose their heads without me around to keep them straight!_

_Eurwen inquired as to why I never answered her about visiting. I told her that Dad doesn't exactly see eye-to-eye with me on Professor Quirrell, which she understood. Her parents aren't too keen on him either, but they are cordial enough since he is a family member that can watch over her in the magical world._

* * *

31 January 1992

_I overheard Harry talking with Ron earlier and it sounded like Harry was going out-of-bounds again during the holiday. They've been acting odd, for them anyways, always coming into the library with me and searching through books and records in their spare time. This is not like them at all. Normally they don't even touch a book unless they have to. Harry found something while wandering that has to do with a "Flamel" person. I do not wish to write down much about it, but I can say that it is very important._

* * *

18 February 1992

_If I hear one more word about the Olympics I am going to scream._

_Talk about them during the summer… when I'm not around._

* * *

6 March 1992

_I haven't found anything on Flamel yet, Hattie. It's a roaring bore, trying to pick through everything. I only do it in my spare time though, unlike Harry and Ron. They seem to be doing it all the time without any regard to their studies._

_Speaking of studies, Professor Burbage asked me if I was possibly interested in a study abroad programme. There are a couple of schools in America that have been asking her for candidates, since we have Stephen Cornfoot over here shouting at the top of his lungs about eagles and turkeys and whatever it is he shouts about whenever he can (he got into Ravenclaw over me? How?) and they say it would be good for a culture exchange. There are schools in Massachutetts (did I spell that correctly? Ugh, Americans…) and the Rocky Mountains and the Great Lakes and the Pacific Coast and on the Gulf that I could go to if I wanted._

_Apparently the Statute of Secrecy operates differently over there, due to the effects colonization had on the Americas. There isn't even a wizarding United States of America—there's the WSPA, the Wizarding States and Provinces of America. Professor Burbage told me that it was all of the United States and Canada, with different internal and external administrative boundaries. Rupertsland still exists, and there are places like Sjoeland and Deseret and Cottrell (another school there too). There are only thirty subdivisions as well, which I can only assume is because of different concentrations of wizards to Muggles. Ernie MacMillan heard Professor Burbage talking to me and called the WSPA 'the land of the Free and the home of the Squibs', whatever that means. It makes me wonder how many places in the world are divided differently when it comes to magical/Muggle communities. Is that the norm or is it a side-effect of the colonial age? I will definitely have to read into this._

* * *

21 March 1992

_I can't believe that the answer had been right in front of me the whole time! On a Chocolate Frog card, of all things! Nicolas Flamel was the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone! Oh, this is incredible! I thought it was only a myth—a fairy tale. It seems like more and more fairy tales come true every week when I'm in this place! It makes me wonder how many more things we can learn simply by looking at sweets packaging._

* * *

2 April 1992

_Oh, guess who got the international exchange student slot? __**Sally-Anne Perks**__. It's not even like she is interesting or anything—she's from Jersey. All next year she will be in the WSPA, half the year in Salem Witches' Institute and half in Jasper Academy of the Arts. Oh, I am so disappointed. I had to congratulate her anyways. It is the nice thing to do, after all._

* * *

25 April 1992

_I think that Harry and Ron are getting ready to go and find out what's in the third floor corridor soon. They've been acting rather odd lately, for boys anyways. They're always whispering to each other and always look very pale like they're nervous. It becomes rather distracting when I'm trying to tutor Neville. He may not get everything right away, even when we're partnered in class, but at least he _tries_ to behave like a human being and focus on coursework._

_Hagrid doesn't seem to be helping much either when it comes to focusing. He's got a dragon, of all things, sitting in his hut! Norbert is a fantastic little creature, but he got us in trouble just for being there. Oh, I hate Malfoy so much right now! I've never had to serve a detention in my life! It's a very good thing Mum and Dad don't know, since I'm a first-time offender. They'd take away my tapes—ALL my tapes—and it would be a summer without any music or television programmes in the background while I work. That would drive me mad. We have to convince Hagrid to get rid of the thing before more trouble comes._

* * *

28 May 1992

_I don't think anyone believes us when it comes to our theories on Professor Snape or the mysterious figure that was drinking the unicorn blood in the Forbidden Forest or... ugh! It's quite frustrating to keep up with everything. Oh, I can do it Hattie, there's no doubt about that, but it grates on my nerves sometimes. Lavender and Parvati keep on calling me a liar and an idiot for believing in all the things Harry and Ron tell me. At least I can do more than stare like a tart when boys are around. I'm honestly surprised that Fay puts up with it as much as she does. She mostly sits there while they go on about how I sound like a university student on helium when I talk, amongst other things. It's not my fault that my vocabulary is more advanced than theirs. I don't think she wants to be drug into it and be singled out for something too._

* * *

5 June 1992

_By gosh, that was an incredible adventure! Harry, Ron and I went into the third floor corridor last night! Well, Harry and Ron were going to go, but I couldn't just let them go on their own and die. Neville tried to tag along, but I had to cast _Petrificus Totalus_ on him. I can only imagine what it would've been like had he gone and come, but we won't talk about that. The Philosopher's Stone was in the dungeon the cerebus's trap door led to, safely tucked away through a few obstacles which were honestly too easy to bypass. The three of us are first years and we got through, for the love of George! Ron almost died too, the idiot. Once he gets out of the hospital wing for that concussion, I'm going to give him another one using our Herbology textbook._

_I didn't get to the end of the course, but Harry did. He said that a powerful Dark wizard named Voldemort was back. I know I've never told you about him, Hattie, but he was the one who killed Harry's parents when he was a baby. Everyone thought that Voldemort had died, but he was apparently living under Professor Quirrell's turban all year. One touch from Harry and our teacher, one of the kindest men you've ever met, disintegrated into nothing. Poof... vanished. Poor Eurwen when she found out... I don't believe she's stopped crying yet. I can't think what it would be like to lose someone like that. All I can do is loan a shoulder and offer to visit over summer. Most likely I'll just be allowed to write, but it would still be the thought that would count._

_Can you believe that Lavender and Parvati are actually_ glad _that Professor Quirrell is gone? They said that they thought his turban was creepy and his stutter made him sound daft. Speaking ill of the dead like that is so disrespectful... I can't believe it, even if he _was_ possessed._

* * *

12 June 1992

_Home again, Hattie! It's nice to be back, in my own bed and not having to share a room with anyone. The term, in some ways, could not end soon enough! We won the House Cup, which was nice, but it still didn't bring back our teacher. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall said that they couldn't explain why Professor Quirrell turned into dust like he did. It was really complicated magic, I suppose._

* * *

16 July 1992

_This is quite odd, Hattie. I've been sending letters to my friends and only Ron has answered back. Eurwen and Harry haven't answered me yet. Ron tells me that Harry hasn't answered him either. His brothers suspect Harry's aunt and uncle, so they're going to investigate soon. As for Eurwen, I don't know how keen she is on talking to anyone at the moment. Losing Professor Quirrell was hard on her. If she doesn't want to talk, I understand. Ron says she's just being a girl about it, but I'm sure he'd be upset if something happened to one of his brothers. I don't know about all this._

* * *

24 August 1992

_Today, I met up with Harry, Ron, and Ron's family in Flourish and Blotts while my parents and I were shopping for school supplies. Mr and Mrs Weasley seem like very nice people. Dad wasn't too thrilled to be drilled for hours on Muggle life and what exactly a dentist does, but he put up with it for me. I felt rather glad he sat through that, actually. Makes all the times I've sat through talks with his colleagues nearly worth the while._

_While we were at the bookstore, we met the new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor! His name is Gilderoy Lockhart and he's quite charming. He looks like he could be in New Kids on the Block, but he was the one who wrote all of our course books this year! He's been all over the world and done so many things that it seems almost unreal that he would want to take a teaching job of all things! Hogwarts is probably going to be a boring life for him. Don't get me wrong, because I wouldn't mind being a teacher in the slightest and I respect the teachers at school, but going from travelling the world and encountering mummies and vampires and all sorts of dangerous beings to a bunch of snot-nosed brats staring at you all day? I can't imagine having to force a change like that unless age makes it mandatory... and_ then... _I simply have a great respect for that._

* * *

1 September 1992

_Oh my goodness, those Slytherins simply will not stop! Draco is just such a pig that I can barely even stand to think of him! He's a vile boy and I wish I knew what would make him leave for good! He was making fun of a little first year before getting on the train, telling him all sorts of nasty things about all the different Houses besides Slytherin... and then, when he found out the boy was Muggle-born, he spat on his shoes and walked away in disgust. The poor boy started crying, so I went over and gave him a hug to tell him that it was alright. His name is Colin and he likes photography. He asked if Muggle cameras still work at Hogwarts, and I told him that I did not know. I never really thought about it, since I only brought books with me last year for entertainment. People still carry around radios and Fay has a fancy-looking cassette-player that looks like it was stolen off the set of_ Silver Nemesis, _but I don't know if any of it is actually Muggle technology or not. Well, they certainly do look like they would play normal cassettes. I should ask Mom if she could send over a couple of my cassette tapes and then ask Fay to borrow her player. It would be nice if I could explain some things like that to the younger students, but I simply can't. Heck, sometimes I wish I could explain magic itself._

* * *

2 September 1992

_I'm worried about Eurwen. Neville and I had tried to talk to her on the train yesterday, but she was really cross and told us off. She's different... I can tell. She slouches and frowns all the time and I've yet to see her laugh since we returned. She actually told Ron's brothers Fred and George to move out of her way and called them 'bloody gingers'. The Eurwen I know would NEVER do that, nor would she mean it. This doesn't look good... not in the slightest._

_Oh my gosh, Professor Lockhart is probably my new favourite teacher. He's so handsome and knowledgeable and employs a very hands-on curriculum. We had to capture some Cornish pixies he let out in the classroom yesterday. That was fun, although I'm not quite sure as to why he stayed in his office. It's probably because he knew we were capable of handling the pixies and didn't want us to be nervous._

* * *

8 September 1992

_I feel odd today, Hattie. It's like something happened that I need to know about. All day I've had a sort of nagging feeling in the back of my head, as if something opened up that should have remained closed. I must write Mum and see if there's anything that occurred in the Muggle world._

_It's rather unnerving. I hope it's just nothing._

* * *

8 November 1992

_Oh, I wish I've had more time to write to you, Hattie! Second year work simply eats up my time! I've barely even had enough time to catch up on my reading—I've only read five novels this term! This is definitely a larger work load than last year. Harry and Ron, however, only seem to be interested in Quidditch instead. I swear that those boys are probably the dumbest things I've ever met. They most likely wouldn't even be in second year if it weren't for me._

_Well... I did sort of lie. There is something other than Quidditch that the boys are interested in this term, and it certainly isn't their studies. There is something roaming the halls, Petrifying people. It already got Colin Creevey earlier today, the poor thing, and Mrs Norris, who didn't so much deserve it as most people believe. I think I have an idea as to what it is though. I don't want to write it down, in case someone else decides to read this—LAVENDER, I KNOW IT IS YOU—and think of me as silly if I'm wrong. There still needs to be loads more research done. Everybody is so frightened, down to the teachers. A couple of the first years have been taken out by their parents for the Christmas holiday already and I heard Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall talking the other day about whether or not they should cause the Muggle-born parents worry by telling them._

_All this is being done by someone going by the name of 'Slytherin's Heir'. Everyone thinks that it's Harry, but _we_ think that it's Draco. It makes sense, really. I mean, with his blood purity thing and all it's only the natural choice. It's rather annoying every single time I go to do something with Harry, we get stares. Things were bad enough last term when he was 'The Boy Who Lived'._

* * *

21 November 1992

_I wonder what I should do, Hattie. I heard Professors McGonagall and Sprout talking earlier in the corridor and it sounds like there was a fire at Windsor Castle. Muggle authorities say a spotlight caught a curtain on fire, but Professor McGonagall said it was the work of Dark Wizards, attempting to make a statement. Apparently the Ministry of Magic was ordered to stay out of it. I don't know why the Muggle government won't allow the Ministry to investigate._

* * *

17 December 1992

_Harry is a Parseltounge! We were at Duelling Club today and everyone watched as he Charmed a snake Malfoy had conjured during their duel using only this odd, hissing language! I can't believe Harry never knew he could do that, let alone tell us he could speak to snakes! I'm starting to wonder exactly how much about himself he has to learn._

_Oh, and yes, everyone now is dead certain that Harry is the Heir of Slytherin. One of Slazar Slytherin's defining traits was his ability to speak Parseltounge and, well, let's just say everyone in the castle that has not heard the news will hear by tomorrow morning. Why does Harry have to be so difficult?_

* * *

18 December 1992

_This is getting very scary, Hattie. Whatever it is that's going around Petrifying people got Sir Nicolas de Mimsy and Justin Finch-Fletchley today. How you can Petrify a House Ghost is beyond me, but it seems like Sir Nicolas got the brunt of the blow. There have been whispers of what Justin's parents might do once they're informed by the school, or if they even will be informed. They are very important Muggles, and this would not look good. What if they simply get a letter saying that he's staying behind for his studies? I don't feel good now._

* * *

25 December 1992

_Stupid, stupid, stupid! I knew this was a terrible idea, but no! Now I'm sitting in a stall in Moaning Myrtle's toilet, sprouting fur and a tail! It hurts so much... my ears are migrating up my skull and the colours I see are becoming odd. I am going to be in so much trouble! Harry and Ron BETTER appreciate this!_

_I never knew Millicent Bulstrode had a cat! ARGH!_

* * *

27 December 1992

_I'm a human being again. Thank the Lord Madam Pomfrey was too stunned to ask questions. I am so embarrassed... and it sounds like Harry and Ron only got part of the information we needed. I know I shouldn't, but... __**bollocks**__._

* * *

10 January 1993

_Well isn't that odd... Princess Diana of Wales wants a divorce. I know I shouldn't pry, Hattie, but I do enjoy listening to things about the royal family, even if it is bad. I'm not quite sure why. Maybe it makes me feel like I'm connected to people, somehow, since everyone seems to pay attention, wizard and Muggle. Lavender says I just have a crush on Prince William. He would only be in first year during the next term! Wouldn't something like that be illegal or... something?_

* * *

14 February 1993

_I'm really worried about Harry. He's been hearing voices for months now, and today he decided to follow them. He just took off and came into the common room a few hours later carrying a soggy, foul-smelling book. I think it was a diary, but the pages were blank. This diary writes back, Hattie. Is that what wizarding diaries do? It makes me uncomfortable._

* * *

8 May 1993

_Pipes._

* * *

Professor McGonagall still could not believe her eyes as she stood next to Hermione Granger. The young girl was lying awkwardly on a bed in the hospital wing, completely still save for the tiniest hint of breath. She was frozen in time, stuck in the moment where she peeked round the corner and saw something, _something_, in that mirror that now sat on the nightstand.

'You called for us, Professor?' asked a voice. McGonagall turned around and saw Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil and Fay Dunbar standing near the drawn curtain. They looked nervous as they stared wide-eyed at Hermione, unsure about what to think of her.

'Ah, there you girls are,' McGonagall said. She glided over towards her students and swept them towards their classmate. 'I thought that you girls should visit Hermione. It would do her good to have you as company.'

'No offense, Professor,' Lavender said, 'but I don't think she can hear us. I mean, it's like she's in a coma, right? I would think that means that she can't do anything.'

'It would still be a kind gesture. Sometimes the best medicine in the world is for the spirits,' McGonagall replied. 'Sometimes coma victims can hear the people around them, particularly if they were close friends or relatives. Now I'll leave you girls be.'

* * *

10 June 1993

_Hattie, if you weren't just a book, you would never believe me._

_Back in May, when I was helping to look for the Basilisk, Penelope Clearwater, and I were Petrified by it. It didn't kill us, but it certainly did do some damage. I was frozen in place for over a month. I barely breathed, I couldn't eat unless Madam Pomfrey helped, and I couldn't talk. Worst of all was that I fell so far behind on my studies that I don't think I'm going to sleep until term's end. Couldn't even read or move my eyes and everything just became a blur of the brown-stained wooden roof. Madam Pomfrey told me to be careful, because my muscles are slightly atrophied and I won't be up to full strength for a few weeks. I believe her, since it's a chore to even sit upright and my eyesight is still a little blurry. I kept a brave face on earlier at dinner, but I don't know how long I can go._

_I know that you're probably wondering why. Well, there was one thing I could still do while I was Petrified: I could hear. I heard Ron and Harry come in almost every day. They told me kind things and told me the progress they had made in the search for Slytherin's Heir. I wanted to tell them everything I had found out, but each time I tried to scream came out silent. I was so scared that they were going to die, Hattie; that I was going to die. The ghosts in the castle make death look like a lark, but not everyone gets to stick around in the afterlife._

_One day, I remember that Professor McGonagall brought the other girls from my dorm in the hospital wing to visit and see how I was doing. Of course I hadn't changed much from the day before, but she insisted they come for a visit to lift my spirits. As if Lavender and Parvati would make me feel any better. They said such nasty things about me, such horrible things. While they were going on about how much I deserved being Petrified and how they hoped I stayed that way, Fay stayed quiet. She didn't tell them to stop or apologised or anything. The worst part was that I couldn't even cry._

_I almost went mad, Hattie. Raving mad. This is like Muggle school all over again, except now this time my life is in danger almost every time I step into the halls. Maybe, if I just keep to my studies, they'll just leave me alone. I want to do so much, learn all there is to learn and become as smart as I can become... but there's no room for me to do it here. I'm requesting a dorm change next term and that is final._

* * *

Note from Marty: We decided to get some of the headcanon developed for Wizarding North America out of the way, as it shall soon be null and void with the introduction of the Fantastic Beasts film. _I've written textbook excerpts. __**Textbook excerpts.**_

As the International Magical scene is going to be expounded upon in the series, we began to write up varying headcanons on things such as the colonial eras and noisy neighbours and things like that. Used textbooks were scoured and we decided on the fact that the Wizarding North America is a very strange place. It was politically founded in French and English, with indigenous languages given protectoral status, and with a no-hard-feelings-but-we-need-to-operate-on-our-own -please-because-political-climate-type relationship with Wizarding Britain from the very start. WSPA wizards and witches did many things, both positive and negative, that shaped both Canada and the United States. They were frontiersmen and abolitionists and cowhands and revolutionists and even in secret helped develop the modern sport of ice hockey. I personally feel as if Det. William Murdoch is a wizard himself, but jury's out on Mike's feelings over this (lawl, dude, stop hitting me). We will sprinkle more in as time goes on, as well as inferences on Old World wizards as well.

Clearly, we have and still will put way too much thought and effort and time into this.


	4. Chapter 4

Many apologies concerning the lateness of the update. Maths homework and day-trip holidays and convention planning sort of messed with things. Fear not, for this is a highly informational chapter.

Neither Mike nor Marty own rights to the Harry Potter franchise.

* * *

_Finding Your Feet_: Chapter Four

9 July 1993

_Hattie, guess where I am!_

_Alright, I'll tell you, since you cannot guess by mere principle of being a Muggle journal. I'm in a train headed towards Burgundy! Mum and Dad kept it secret from me until this morning, when they woke me up early to pack. We're going to be there nearly a month!_

_A real family holiday! I can barely wait!_

* * *

12 July 1993

_Oh, today was so much fun! We got up early and walked all around Dijon! The architecture around here is incredible! I'm using up loads of film just taking photographs of houses and roofs and streets. I hope we go to the Ducal Palace and Musée des Beaux-Arts de Dijon tomorrow. I can barely put down how happy I feel into words. I don't have words. That feels... odd, but a good sort of odd._

* * *

13 July 1993

_Oh, Hattie. I should have known. They're at a small business conference. I went to the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Dijon by myself. I made friends with a pair of Moroccan siblings, Ameqran and Titrit Ifran, as they went through the museum too. They spoke English incredibly well, saying that their father is in international business so they always spoke a mix of French, Tashelhit (Shilha Berber, apparently), and English at home. Titrit is my age, but Ameqran is three years older; their family lives in Saint-Denis and are also on holiday. Their parents were off doing other things too. We had lunch in a little cafe and Ameqran insisted on walking me back to the hotel. When I told Mum and Dad, they were too tired to listen._

_Oh, and another thing about Ameqran and Titrit—they like to hug. I have to get used to that._

* * *

19 July 1993

_Ameqran and Titrit are wizards._

_I was walking around earlier when I saw them on the street, off to the side and looking at a statue everyone else seemed to be ignoring. The statue looked like a wizard, so I went over to ask them who it was. Titrit seemed surprised to see me, but Ameqran calmly explained the wizard in the statue was of a Moroccan who had lost his life during World War II. Apparently, he was saving local Muggles from Voldemort's men and died doing so. The look on the statue's face was so solid and resolute, yet kindly and comforting._

_After talking for what felt like ages, Titrit and I exchanged addresses and we promised to write each other during school. She and her brother go to the French magic school, Beauxbatons, and she said she'd write as often as she could. Ameqran even said he might see me again soon. Maybe there is an exchange programme different from the one in the WSPA? I'm unsure, but my new friends leave tomorrow. It is going to be a long couple of weeks ahead of me._

* * *

25 July 1993

_Today was quite productive, so to speak. I was wandering about in the main of the city and I found a doorway. No one else seemed to pay it any mind, so I went in thinking it was another wizarding monument, or the entrance to one. I was sort of correct—they were __**catacombs**__._

_Now I know that there __**are**__ more catacombs than just the ones in Paris, but I had never imagined I would find some out here in Dijon! I kept on walking for what felt like hours, passing by all sorts of crypts and vaults. Suddenly, it hit me: I was in a wizarding catacomb!_

_I don't know if it was the stale air or the fact I realized I was with a bunch of deceased wizards and witches that sent me running, but I bolted as far as I could, as quick as I could. I ran over to the nearest store, bought a proper torch (I only had my book light and wand on me, both being insufficient based on low light and not being allowed) and a notepad and ran back to the door to begin writing EVERYTHING down that was on the identification placards. It's like a gold mine of useful things! Poul-Luc de Dijon was a wizard that died in the middle of the French Revolution but brought back to his hometown. Jeanne the Lucky was an educator, who travelled across France teaching poor children both Muggle and wizarding. I filled my entire notepad and I'm going to go back tomorrow!_

* * *

8 August 1993

_Ron just wrote me to say that Harry blew up his aunt. Could this have waited until after I was back in London? Almost done with the catalogue of the Dijon catacombs; met a man down there yesterday. His name is Honorious Batclaff and he was doing the same thing I was, except he had just started. He offered me a hundred Galleons for my work, to save himself the time, but I refused. This is my work and mine alone. He can do it himself if he really wants it._

* * *

13 August 1993

_Well, we're back at home now. I thought Marjorie would barrel me over when she saw me come out of the car. She sure has gotten big since two summers ago, when Mr Smith got her from the shelter._

_I received an owl from Professor McGonagall when I arrived home. I'm eligible for a Time Turner! I know I never said anything before, but I never wanted Lavender to read. I want to take extra courses this term, but with an already-full schedule I needed help attending everything. Professor McGonagall said she would ask the Ministry of Magic for a Time Turner I could borrow. It's a little device that lets the wearer go back in time a short while. Very few are ever borrowed out and even fewer are given to students! Now I can take my extra courses without a problem! I'm so excited!_

_Ron sent me an owl too, saying his mum was inviting me to stay with the family the night before we go to school. I asked Mum if that was alright and she said I could go. Dad does not seem too pleased, but he has been less and less pleasant since the conference in Dijon began. He never tells me anything, so I'm just going to have to wait it out as usual. Mum's at least optimistic about this one._

* * *

31 August 1993

Hermione sat on her bed, almost overwhelmed by nerves. Her things were mostly packed in her trunk and the room had been tidied. It did not need much tidying after spending a significant portion of the summer holiday in France with her parents as they attended another conference, though it still had to be subject to the windstorm that is a thirteen-year-old. Hermione had cleaned it when she could not sleep. In five hours she would be in London and at the Leaky Cauldron with Harry and Ron, a fact that she was an emotional rollercoaster over.

'My... you're ready to go already?' Mr Granger asked as he poked his head in through the door. 'I was just coming in to wake you up.'

'I got up on my own,' Hermione said. She saw that her father was still in his slippers and dressing gown. 'Is Mum up?'

'She went downstairs to put together some breakfast.'

'Alright.'

With that, Mr Granger ducked out of the room and left his daughter to her devices. Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled slowly—she would have to eat something before the car ride. Suddenly, the thought to her occurred: she could write Titrit. That might calm her down. Hermione quickly got ink and quill and began to write.

_Dearest Titrit,_

_I'm leaving to go to stay with a classmate's family for a bit before heading off to Hogwarts. I'll be certain to write again once I get to school (and hopefully out of that dorm room). I wish you the best of luck this year on your studies!_

_Sincerely,_

_Hermione_

Quickly, Hermione folded up the parchment and tied it up with string. She then opened her window and stuck out her wand to hail an owl—one of the few bits of magic she was allowed at home being a Muggle-born. Once the bird came and left with its new destination, Hermione finished throwing the miscellanea still sitting about her room in her trunk and bounded down the stairs with it.

* * *

It was difficult convincing her parents that she found The Leaky Cauldron, but once they were through the magical barrier and inside, things went smoother. Well, smoother until the Weasleys caught sight of them. Hermione really could not blame Mr Weasley for being so excited to talk to a real, non-Confunded Muggle, but she was always a tinge unnerved when the real, non-Confunded Muggle in question was her father.

'Ah! There you are, Grangers! How good it is to see you again!' Mr Weasley said cheerily. He folded the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ he had been reading over his eggs and ran over to shake Mr Granger's hand. Hermione had to suppress a smirk as her father's arm was shaken so violently it appeared to look like a noodle.

'Arthur, come now, you're going to take his arm clean off,' Mrs Weasley scolded. She batted her husband off of Mr Granger and gave each of the newcomers a short, clean handshake. 'Come now, Hermione dear. Upstairs now; Ginny's in Room 14 and Ron's in 16. Harry should be in 11.'

'Okay,' Hermione said. She hugged her parents and left them to walk up the creaky, dark staircase. The upper level of the pub seemed deserted until a high-pitched screech cut through the air like a hot knife through butter.

'AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!' Ginny screamed, running at full speed out of Room 14 and down the stairs. Hermione had to dodge to the side in order to not be run over. She had to double-take as the young girl turned to run down the stairs, however, as it seemed as if Ginny's hair had changed from its usual red lustre to a shocking shade of green.

Hermione went into Room 14 and found Fred and George rolling on the floor, clutching their sides in laughter. She groaned and folded her arms, leaning on the doorjamb.

'You two really believe you were clever, don't you?'

'Oh, don't worry 'bout it Hermione,' Fred laughed. 'It was just a little joke. It'll wear off in a couple hours.'

Hermione simply rolled her eyes and went down the stairs to see if Ginny was alright. She came down just as Mrs Weasley was restoring Ginny's natural colour. Her parents were still there too, uncomfortably staring at the scene before them.

'I'm gonna kill 'em!' Ginny sniffed. It was not like her to be weepy at all, making Hermione theorize that Fred and George had gotten her when she was either still asleep or had just woken. She was coming back to full form, gripping her wand with building rage.

'Don't do that, dear,' Mrs Weasley cooed, clearly self-conscious of the Grangers. 'It wasn't right of them to do that, but that doesn't mean you can go around beating them up. They'll get theirs.' Ginny simply stomped up the stairs, which only yielded more shouting.

'Are... are you sure you want to stay...?' Mr Granger asked his daughter. Hermione put on a smile, knowing this was important to Mrs Weasley.

'I'll be fine. Ginny's just not one to take stuff from her brothers, is all.'

'Alright then, honey. Just be good, enjoy yourself, and have a great year at school,' Mrs Granger said. She gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek and within minutes the young woman was left alone.

'Now, you look a little peckish,' Mrs Weasley said, leading Hermione over to the table and setting her down. 'Eggs?'

* * *

'I still don't think that's a cat,' Ron said, wrinkling his nose at Crookshanks. They were onboard the Hogwarts Express, already in their uniforms, headed towards school through the rain and hail.

'Well, it is a cat. A _magical_ cat, so lay off, Ron,' Hermione frowned. 'You've been at the poor dear since I bought him, all because Scabbers is a little skittish.'

'Rightfully so! Cats eat rats!'

'They eat pests, and a rat is not a pest to a wizard. I swear, if you raise your voice any higher, you're going to wake the professor.'

'Oh, yeah. Don't remind me.' Ron slumped back in his seat and scowled. It was bad enough that they had to share the car with a sleeping stranger, but he had been unable to come to terms with Hermione's choice in pet since the day before.

'Stop fighting you two,' Harry said. He ripped open the wrapper of a pumpkin pasty and tore a chunk out of it. 'I'm really sort of curious about this Sirius Black fellow and what he could possibly want with me.'

'You're the Boy Who Lived, Harry. There's any number of reasons why he could want you,' Hermione replied.

'Yeah. Fred and George say that he was in leagues with You-Know-Who, and that he wants to bring you back to his master!'

'Nonsense,' Hermione sighed. 'Hogwarts is the safest place for Harry to be. Dumbledore's there, as well as all the other teachers. The Ministry's gonna capture Black and that will be that.'

'Easy for you to say, Hermione,' Ron said. 'You never grew up thinking you'd go to Azkaban for not eating sprouts.'

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but the train jerked to a stop before she could utter a sound.

'Whoa! What was that?!' Harry shouted. The three teens glanced over to the sleeping professor to see he was still motionless. The sound of other students in the car corridor could be heard almost faintly, as if they were further away than they should have been.

Suddenly, Hermione shivered as a chill went right past her skin and down to her bones. Scabbers scrawled up Ron's sleeve and hid, while Crookshanks hopped up onto the luggage overhang and hissed violently before huddling inside his carrier.

'What... what's going on...?' she asked. Hermione felt terrified, as if she was certain she was never going to make it to Hogwarts, let alone back home.

'I don't know...' Ron squeaked, his voice high. His already-fair skin was becoming pasty and covered in sweat. 'This isn't good, you guys...'

Hermione gasped as she saw her breath billow out of her mouth in a puff of steam. The windows frosted over and the temperature dropped considerably. A slight tang sat on her tongue as her lips began cracking and a couple droplets of blood dripped down into her mouth.

A scream erupted from down the corridor, shrill and high and piercing.

'What was that?!' Harry panicked. He whipped out his wand along with his friends and the three stood on guard, watching the door to the compartment.

A hooded figure crept slowly into view. The frosted window obscured the identity, allowing the figure to creep up to the door unidentified. The door slowly creaked open and a long, bony set of fingers curled around the door. The figure's skin was an eerie sort of grey, too dark to be ashen and too light to be jet-black, and was flaked in chunks. The three friends clustered closer together, afraid of what was coming.

The figure rounded the door and faced the compartment occupants. Its robe was black and ragged, clinging to a wisp of a frame. Under the hood was shadow and a maw, terrible and bared. Harry began to breathe heavily and dropped to his knees.

'Harry!' Hermione shouted, catching her friend before he fell to the floor. She had only just begun to help Harry when a strong, unfamiliar voice boomed over them.

'EXPECTO PATRONUM!'

A silvery light filled the compartment and the creature emitted a high-pitched screech before flying out of the train car, phasing right through the window. Hermione looked over her should to see that Professor R. J. Lupin had finally decided to wake up.

* * *

Note from Marty: Excitement! Intrigue! International magical communities! Not-Pokemon-laden France! Hopefully I don't botch anything concerning the Ifran siblings too badly. If there is a discrepancy, due to a language or cultural aspect that I seem to have overlooked, please feel free to send us a message. French was never my language in school (despite the fact most of my cousins picked it up with ease), and I cannot exactly say I am an expert in any regard when it comes to anything except possibly making people cry on accident.


	5. Chapter 5

So we heard you like darkfic. Turns out Mike and I like darkfic as well. We like it so much that we're serving up a heaping plateful today. We're getting into the action now, so hold on tight. Please enjoy, and drop in a comment or two if you're so inclined, as all are welcome.

Neither Mike nor Marty own commercial rights to Harry Potter, blah, blah, blah, my backroom looks weird at times.

* * *

_Finding Your Feet_: Chapter Five

'Are you alright, Harry?' Professor Lupin asked as he sat next to the boy. Hermione and Ron sat across from them, wide-eyed and mortified.

'I... erm...' Harry was still groggy from almost passing out. 'Wat wuz dat...?'

'It was a Dementor, Harry. It is one of the many that guard the wizarding prison Azkaban. That was quite the scrape we almost had ourselves in.' He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a candy bar that he immediately began to break into large chunks. 'Everyone, take some chocolate. That's better. It'll pep you up in no time.'

Hermione nibbled on the chocolate pensively as Professor Lupin began chatting with them, making sure Harry stayed awake. Before long, they were all feeling perfectly fine and the train rumbled into Hogsmeade. Professor McGonagall was there to meet them as they unloaded.

'Remus, I heard the news,' she said. Hermione was shocked to see how upset and frazzled McGonagall looked. She gave a large sigh of relief when she saw how intact the students were. 'Are any of you hurt?'

'No, Professor,' Hermione said. Professor McGonagall reached inside a sleeve pocket and procured a small box.

'This came for you by Owl Post, Miss Granger,' Professor McGonagall said. 'I took the liberty of bringing you the package, since the Evaluation ceremony—heaven forbid—might switch your House. We aren't allowed to make assumptions.' She pressed the box into Hermione's hands. 'Be careful.'

'Yes, ma'am,' Hermione beamed before putting the package in her pocket. Professor McGonagall whispered something to Professor Lupin and then walked off. Just as soon as she left, another friendly face tumbled off the train and over to the trio.

'Oh my goodness, are you all alright?' Neville asked, running up to his classmates. 'I heard there was a Dementor that attacked your car!'

'That's correct, Neville,' Professor Lupin said, scanning the platform. 'Everyone should be fine though.'

'Ride along with us, Neville,' Hermione said as a carriage approached. It was one of the last ones, as by now there were not many students left. 'We don't want to be the last in line to be Evaluated.'

'Oh... okay...' Neville said as the horseless cart stopped in front of them. Professor Lupin sat up in the driver's seat while the four students sat in the back.

'Whoa... I never thought this was how we would get to the school...' Ron gaped.

'You would have known that had you not been set on crashing an Anglia into the Whomping Willow,' Hermione frowned. Ron stuck out his tongue in his usual eloquence.

'Hermione... look!' Neville gasped. He was pointing at her chest, right at her necktie that had just become a milky white colour. The boys' neckties had done the same, becoming a blank slate.

'Whoa...' Ron gaped. 'I guess they'll turn back once we're resorted.'

'It's _Evaluated_, Ronald.'

'Whatever it is, I think it's unnerving,' Harry said. He was looking out the carriage window, his face pale with fear.

'Don't worry Harry. You'll get put back into Gryffindor. You saw how the past two years have barely changed a bit. Slytherin's for the troublesome sort and none of us are that.'

'Depends on how you look at it,' Neville piped up. Hermione kicked him in the shin and put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

'Everything's going to be fine.'

'No, Hermione, it's not. The Sorting Hat asked me if I wanted to be in Slytherin when I was first Sorted! It might not even ask this time and just put me in there! Then what kind of a life will I have?'

'You are going to have a proper one, because you'll be in Gryffindor no matter what. No Slytherin or Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff for any of us. Remember how the Sorting Hat asked if I wanted to be in Ravenclaw? I highly doubt that'll happen.' Hermione stared down her carriage-mates and nodded resolutely.

'We're almost there, kids,' Professor Lupin said. 'I'm fairly positive we won't be bothered again, but I'll walk you in just to be safe.'

'...but Professor Lupin...' Hermione started.

'No buts, Hermione. If the Dementor from the train was not at Azkaban, then who knows how far others were able to travel—it's best I stay with you.'

Finally, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of the main doors. Professor Lupin helped everyone out and ushered them into the castle. The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement as students were growing restless over the impending feast.

'Ah, there you are,' Professor Flitwick said. He scribbled down Neville, Ron, Harry, and Hermione's names down, in that order. 'You four are the last of the Third Years to arrive. Take your places. Go on.'

The four took their spot in the back of the line that their classmates had formed. It zigzagged and wrapped around itself, forming a serpentine path only broken by the path needed by the doorway. The friends were just in line when unsorted First Years were herded in, wide-eyed and estatic.

'Did we really look like that?' Ron asked. Hermione was too busy looking over the new students to pay him much heed—there were more girls than there were boys in this new class, just enough to notice.

'Ambrose, Tabitha!'

A small girl bounced out of line and up to the Sorting Hat. It took a few moments, but soon the Ravenclaw table was cheering loudly.

'This is boring,' Harry admitted. 'I wish I could just go sit down.'

'Wait your turn,' Hermione chuckled. The two smiled at each other and leaned against the wall.

'Cassel, Taranis!'

'Whoa, now that is a name,' Harry laughed. 'It's a little bit more than "Harry" if you ask me.'

'Hermione's name is a bit more than yours,' Ron said.

'Karstark, Medraut!'

'Okay, I lied. _That's_ a _**name**_," Harry smirked. 'Wizards sure are creative.'

'We just have lots more names to choose from,' Ron protested.

'Novack, Marc!'

'Mmm-hmm. Ronald, at least Ginny's name is special.'

'How do you know?!'

'Professor McGonagall said "Ginevra" instead of "Ginny" last year. You'd know if you'd've been there.'

'Vane, Romilda!'

'You just think you know everything, don't you?'

'Young, Illiam!'

'At least I try to learn things while I'm here!'

'Third Years.'

The Great Hall became very, very quiet. A few of the small First Years were whispering to older students, asking what was going on. Hermione's heart began to race. Draco Malfoy sauntered up to the stool first.

'Of course he'd be first in line,' Harry growled. Just as two years before, the Sorting Hat barely touched Malfoy's head when 'SLYTHERIN!' boomed across the entire Hall. There was no clapping—everything stayed hushed.

Crabbe, Goyle, Padma and Parvati, Susan Bones, Zacharias Smith, and so many others... Hermione wished she knew everyone by name. There were Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs that seemed rather amiable that she had never gotten the opportunity to talk to, and Slytherins that she purposely kept away from. At least she knew some, but not all.

Soon, it was only Neville, Ron, Harry, and Hermione left. Neville stumbled up to the stool and jammed the Hat on his head out of nervousness. The Sorting Hat spoke without any deliberation.

'GRYFFINDOR!'

'I don't know why we're doing this,' Ron said before he left for the stool. 'It's not like we're gonna get split up.' It wasn't too long before he was allowed to join his brothers and sister over at the Gryffindor table.

* * *

1 September 1993

_Hattie... oh Hattie. My class just went through Evaluation. There is a very good chance that this is going to be a disaster._

* * *

Then it was Harry's turn. The boy scurried across the floor, leaving Hermione to stand alone. After a brief second of thought, a decision was announced.

'GRYFFINDOR!'

A small cheer came from the red-clad table as they re-welcomed the boy to their ranks. It was the only celebration of the entire Evaluation

'Miss Granger!'

Hermione's head snapped to the front—it seemed as if she had lost track of time watching Gryffindor. The girl sat down on the stool and stared at the other students in the hall before the hat was dropped over her head. Being the last one, she knew everyone else was eager for her to be Evaluated so that they could begin eating quicker.

* * *

_I just put on the Hat like everyone else. I never wanted it to go wrong._

_It asked me if I was bored; if I was happy. The Hat knows I am extremely smart, so it wondered if my brain was being challenged properly._

_It asked if I wanted to switch to Ravenclaw. Honestly, I don't know if I'd fare better in there than under Lavender and Parvati until I graduate._

_I want to learn as much as I can. I want to use the knowledge to do things. I want to make a difference. I want to rise to my full potential and beyond. I know I'm smart and I want to be accepted as so for once without it being about staying out of trouble or copying papers. I don't want to be undermined again._

* * *

'SLYTHERIN!'

A silent gasp clutched the Great Hall. Hermione was afraid to take the hat off, yet Professor McGonagall lifted it for her. Looking down at her robes, the girl found that her necktie was already transformed to Slytherin green and silver.

'I do hate to see you go, Granger,' McGonagall said. 'I pray that you make the best of your new house.'

* * *

_I ate dinner in silence... if you can call what I picked at 'eating'. No one talked to me. No one looked at me. I was the only Evaluated student in my class that changed houses… the seventh Evaluated Slytherin in school history… the first… _**Mudblood**_ in Slytherin. Oh, that word is so terrible and although no one said it I most certainly felt its pressure bearing down on me. When I told the Sorting Hat I was bored and wanted to learn more, I had no idea it would uproot me so violently. I would certainly take Ravenclaw over this. Harry and Ron kept on looking at me sadly from across the room. I'm going to miss them too._

* * *

Standing at the top of the staircase, Hermione looked down into the depths below. Students walked past her, all ignoring the new Slytherin yet making sure to stay far enough away to not physically touch her. She clutched her book and her box from Professor McGonagall and took a deep breath before slowly descending into the dungeon hall. The walls were confining and made of solid stone, unlike the airy and windowed path to Gryffindor Tower. Paintings and tapestries hung about, making the walls seem even closer together. Torches hung at regular intervals and statues lurked on landings that broke up the stairs every so often. Soon Hermione found herself alone in the staircase, with all the other Slytherins having went ahead.

Suddenly, Hermione heard an odd noise come from above her. She snapped her head up to see pipes running all along the ceiling. The girl tilted her head and stared at them for a while before taking out her wand and pointing it at her shoes.

'_Wingardium Leviosa_,' she muttered. Slowly, Hermione rose up until she was high enough to touch the pipes. She could keep her hand on one for only a split second, as they burned her almost before her skin made contact. Hermione placed herself back down onto the ground and ran down the stairs as fast as she could, knowing that the portraits were all eyeing her suspiciously. She ran so quickly, in fact, that she almost ran straight past the blank stretch of wall that was the common room's entrance.

Hermione stared at the wall, hesitating. At the top of the wall, in letters that glittered green and silver, someone had written '_Abandon all Lions, ye who enter here_'. She felt uneasy, but she was originally a very brave Gryffindor, and attempted to brush her fears away.

'Oh, uh…' she stammered, attempting to recall what Snape told her. He had taken her aside after dinner and told her directions and the password, knowing full well that no one else was going to take her. 'Fen's Foundling.'

The wall slid open to reveal the entire House in an uproar. It seemed like everyone from Second Year and older was crowded around Snape, who was attempting to keep everyone as calm as possible without resorting to taking out his wand. Hermione was curious as to why he was not sternly ordering everyone to be quiet and looked more like an exasperated father than a strict professor. As soon as she walked in, the common room became silent and everyone stared.

'Ah. There you are, Miss Granger,' Snape said. Hermione was slightly taken aback by the tone of his voice, as it was—dare she think it—almost kind. He swished his cloak around himself in an official manner and walked over to the new Slytherin. 'I was wondering why it was taking you so long to get down here.'

'Professor, you aren't really going to stand for this, are you?' asked an older student with a prefect badge. His cheeks were colouring in nearly-contained anger, looking as if he had mashed turnip flung on his face.

'Mr. Stretton, I would advise you to show the first years to their dormitories and leave this matter to me,' Snape replied. The prefect then turned a deeper shade of orange and turned on his heel to usher a group of small, wide-eyed boys down one of the iron-wrought doorways. The other students began to all disappear in disgust, until it was only the third-year girls, Hermione and Snape. Hermione knew three of the other girls well enough; Pansy Parkinson was ruthless with her taunts, Millicent Bulstrode was thicker than a cave troll from what she could tell, and Daphne Greengrass was Hogwarts-renown for her bubbly and sickeningly upbeat and girly behaviour. The other three, however, were a mystery. Hermione felt bad that she could barely remember them, but knew that it was most likely due to their former House rivalry preventing their acquaintance.

'So, who's gonna get 'er?' asked one of the other girls. She had straight brown hair and hazel eyes. 'I certainly don't want any Muggle trash in my dorm.'

'Miss Davis, behave,' Snape snapped. 'She is now a member of your House, whether you like it or not. Miss Granger, you know Tracey Davis, correct?'

'We've never been properly introduced,' Hermione said, her voice small. Tracey scoffed judgementally and marched down into one of the corridors. The other two familiar girls stepped forward and looked Hermione over.

'Don't mind her; she's just a bit sore,' said the one. She was rather tall for their age, with sandy blonde hair and green-brown eyes that betrayed her amusement. 'I'll admit I don't trust you, but that doesn't mean we can't give you a try and reverse it. Name's Sapphora Roper and this is Seraphina Smith—Sophie and Sally, if you please.' She motioned towards the girl to her left, who was pale and fair-coloured down to her light-green eyes. 'I know we've never bothered to introduce ourselves before, but I'm sure you understand.'

Hermione nodded, unable to speak out of sheer nervousness. The girl wished she had not eaten so much pudding at dinner, meaning any at all.

'Do you two think that Miss Davis can behave like a person long enough to allow Miss Granger to attend class?' Snape asked.

'Unfortunately not,' Sapphora replied. 'Slytherin or not, if we have a Muggle-born in our room Tracey won't be able to help herself. I mean, come on Professor... you know how she is.'

'True...' Snape stood there and pondered for a moment. 'I don't suppose your room could house our newest member for a while, could you Miss Parkinson?'

'We can try, but I make no promises,' Pansy said. She gave Hermione a look-over, a critical look on her pug's-face. 'I don't like this.'

'Oh, come on Pansy! It won't be that bad!' Daphne giggled. She pulled on the sleeve of Millicent's robe and smiled up at the larger girl. 'Don't you agree Millie? You won't pop her one, right?'

'Not yet,' Millicent grunted.

'Then it's settled,' Snape said. He waved his wand hand around and then ushered Hermione towards Pansy, Daphne and Millicent. 'You're going to stay with them.'

'...but Professor...'

'No buts, Miss Parkinson. If the other dorms can fit four or five to a room then we can too. Go on now... your things are already brought to your rooms.'

Pansy sighed and turned on her heel to leave with Millicent close behind her. Sapphora and Seraphina bid Hermione good night and welcomed her cordially in time for Daphne to take her by the arm and begin dragging her along.

'Don't you worry Hermione,' Daphne said as she led her new dorm mate through a heavy wooden door. Hermione found herself walking down a hall which was warm despite being carved out of bedrock. Paintings and tapestries hung on the walls to make it look less like a tunnel and more like an average hall. There were other doors, just as the corridor's entrance, until they came to the end of the hall, where there were two doors across from each other. Daphne took the one on the left.

Inside the room, Hermione could barely believe what she saw. The beds were four-poster, like the ones in Gryffindor, but were curtained by shimmering, silvery material and made with bed sheets that were the most beautiful emerald green she had ever seen. There was a towered desk by each bed, as well as a mirror and a wardrobe, and a single bookcase at the end of the room for them all to share. A large rug sat in the middle of the wide room, between the beds. Turning her head, she saw a pair of sofas and chairs, all in pink taffeta, encircling a short table that had tea set out. Pansy was already sitting in one of the chairs, sipping on some tea, while Millicent was spread across a sofa eating a biscuit.

'So, this is our room! Do you like it?' Daphne asked. Hermione was unsure about whether or not to find the grin on her face welcoming or unsettling. Daphne led her over to the left-hand corner bed, where Hermione's trunk was already placed, Crookshanks perched lazily atop. 'This is where you'll sleep.'

'Thank you,' Hermione said. She sat down on the bed and felt the fabric of the blanket—it was soft and warm and the most welcoming thing she had ever touched. Daphne pulled on her arm again, her alarmingly sweet and sugary grin growing creepier by the second.

'Come on, let's have some tea,' she said. 'We always have tea before bed.'

'No thank you; I don't feel well,' Hermione said. Daphne pursed her lips in a disappointed pout and skipped along back to the others.

'I told you she wouldn't join us,' Hermione heard Pansy say in indifference. The new Slytherin sighed morosely and began to rummage through her trunk. She pulled out a book that was worn at the edges, a quill and some ink, sat down at her desk and began to write.


End file.
